The White Jade Sect's Festival of First Frost drew every disciple into the grand courtyard, lanterns glowing pale gold against the early winter chill.
Elders sat in the high pavilion, while disciples gathered in neat ranks for the ceremonial sparring displays. Music from long zithers floated through the cold air, each note precise and pure.
Ruo Han stood among the lower ranks, wrapped in ceremonial white robes, trying to still his thoughts. But the moment Elder Hui began reciting the rites, it happened again.
A warmth bloomed in his chest — sharper this time, almost urgent.
His vision blurred, and in the middle of the solemn courtyard he saw something that wasn't there: dark stone walls lit by a single brazier, and Feng Lian, leaning against it like a shadow come to life.
Feng Lian's voice, soft but unshakable: "You don't belong in their cage."
Ruo Han's breath caught. The image broke, but not before his knees weakened.
A murmur swept through the nearby disciples — had he faltered? In front of the elders?
Lan Xiyue's gaze snapped to him instantly, the faintest shift in his stance showing he was ready to move to Ruo Han's side.
But before he could take a step, Elder Hui's voice rang out, cold as frost.
"Disciple Ruo Han. Step forward."
All eyes turned. The music stilled.
Ruo Han's pulse thundered in his ears, but the warmth in his chest didn't fade. If anything, it pulsed once, insistently — as if daring him to speak.
Somewhere, far from the White Jade courtyard, Feng Lian smiled without knowing why.